Say What

Here, it is russet November
A mother will not sing
She holds her sorrow back
For her own child born black
There must be something at the root
Suspicious, can’t say why
Then in a flash, a fire, an instant
The innocent, they die
He tastes a bitter fruit
Of haste and death, a stolen youth
There must be something in the air
It bubbles everywhere
I watch the TV replay
I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe
I am gray
I hold my sorrow back
For my own child born black
Say what, Say what, say what
Compare and contrast
Say what, say what
Go gray, white and black
Say what, Say what, say what
Compare and contrast
Say what, say what
Go gray, white and black